Last Time
by depravedsalroka
Summary: Wolf/Woody. Trigger warnings all up in here. Woody thinks about how he messed up bad, yo.


(Probably pretty OOC & stuff. Honestly I don't like this, it took me like a week to write it and every hour I looked at it I hated it more. Kind of mangled my original idea, ugh. That said, I don't want any constructive criticism, I don't care. Basically just fanservice so fuck it. Set like, what, months before the game?)

* * *

Woody doesn't remember how it started. He remembers their mouths crashing together awkwardly but fervently. Bigby's lips were softer than he expected. They were drunk. Nothing more than that happened, and he left the bar hard, but not expecting anything to come of it. Woody turned up the radio.

Bigby had called the next night, saying that kiss was all he could think about all day, asked what it meant, but said it was nothing to him and just wanted to make sure it wasn't anything to Woody either. He'd never lied worse; Woody headed right over, his buzz making him hopeful and slip a few condoms in his pocket. Once he got there, they shared a cigarette without many words.

"...Do you think you'd want to kiss me again?"

Bigby looked to him and nodded. Carefully cupping his jaw, Woody kissed. As it slowly got more passionate, he ran his fingers through the wolf's thick hair, and moved them to have him in his lap in the chair. Bigby pulled away to catch his breath then was yanked back by his tie, untying it while Woody stroked his thigh, making the wolf sigh and roll his hips. The Woodsman groaned softly as Bigby licked and sucked down his neck, and further with encouragement.

He ended up on his knees, experimentally sucking the head. Woody stroked his cheek, but got impatient and soon grabbed his hair, shoving his cock down his throat. Bigby's eyes went wide and he gagged hard with whimpers, glaring up at Woody, whose head laid back from the pleasure.

"Good boy." he whispered hoarsely, gasping when looking down at him. "Gorgeous boy…"

Bigby blushed, scowling and closing his eyes while pulling his head away, coughing. Woody stood and almost threw him into the chair, working to get his clothes off, hands sliding over muscle and making Bigby shiver. He ground and stroked their cocks together, them groaning and kissing. Bigby's eyes were yellow when he came.

Woody swore. It was pathetic, jerking alone in his apartment while Snow fuckin' White was probably sitting on Bigby's dick right now. He was starving for just his voice. The man stood and got a beer, went outside. It made him nauseous, imagining her lips all over him, his hands all over her. His rational mind knew they most likely weren't together, but he also knew the way they look at each other.

They'd talked. The Trip Trap was tense when the rumors started, but when nothing really changed they didn't care. He wondered what it was like for Bigby, since he was already disliked and those at the Business Office were so uptight. He wondered if Bigby ever thought about Woody like this. Probably not, at all.

They'd gone to a mundy restaurant. It wasn't a _date_, it was a meet up. Woody felt awkward and stupid in a dress shirt, Bigby never changed. The one who seated them seemed uneasy, even avoiding them when they could. They talked about anything, except each other, until their drinks came. Then Bigby reached and grabbed Woody's pinky, grinding his teeth anxiously.

"What is this? Are we just fuckin' around or what?" he blurted, blushing.

"Oh, well… It's whatever you want, I guess, but I really.. like you."

Bigby looked away, then smiled a little, then looked back to Woody and smiled like a doofus, then leaned in for a kiss and squeezed his hand. They went back to Bigby's apartment after, laughing and kissing in the elevator, not noticing if anyone else ever got on, and tripped over Colin when getting inside.

He went ignored as ears and necks were kissed and bit, and was about to say something until Bigby growled 'fuck me.' and lube was pulled out, clothes torn off each other. They'd already done this a few times, so Woody knew what he liked and squeezed hands around his neck until he sputtered as he thrust, Bigby's ankles at his shoulders. He'd accept no less than being on the verge of blacking out. It was so good, they were sure the neighbors all heard them.

Bigby might have liked him, but was never truly his, Woody knew that. They both mentioned maybe living together someday, but never seriously thought about it. After a few months, the wolf always seemed distracted, things for work were coming up, he was just tired. It pissed Woody off; he just wasn't one to be indirect. Drunk and deciding he'd had enough, he slammed into Bigby's office as he was finishing a report.

"Woody, c'mon. I'm busy."

Woody smacked him and grabbed his shirt, lifting and forcing him onto the desk. He slammed his head against it before wrapping his belt around Bigby's neck and pulling, one hand feeling his body once his movements were sluggish. Another head slam and he was unconscious. When he came to, he was alone on the floor. The belt was still there but loosened, pants undone but pulled up. It hurt.

The next day, it was just the way Snow said 'good morning', how she wouldn't quite meet his eye, when she waved her hands while spouting excuses not to talk to him. She saw. Bigby was fucking ashamed, it didn't matter if it was during or after, he still looked pathetic. The Woodsman didn't call again.

_You've got a shit fuckin' memory, Wolf. That's not how it went last time._

_This _isn't_ last time._


End file.
